


All the Way Through Hell and Back

by R_o_m_a_n_o_v_a



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Peter Parker Angst, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Angst, Tony Stark hurt/comfort, Tony Whump, Torture, Waterboarding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-09-30 14:10:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20448410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_o_m_a_n_o_v_a/pseuds/R_o_m_a_n_o_v_a
Summary: Tony and Peter get kidnapped and tortured for information. Tony needs to try and protect Peter, even as he's barely hanging onto his sanity.





	1. Chapter 1

Tony knew it was going to be a bad day when the car took a wrong turn. He texted Happy quickly, turning the location on on his Starkphone and asking him to come and pick him up with backup, waiting until Happy replied in the affirmative before turning his phone back off. He'd thought it was Happy who'd come to pick him up at the gala at first, and had stepped into the car with no hesitation, too drunk to notice that the privacy screen had been up the whole ride. All he could do now was hope that backup would come and deal with the whole situation quickly as he passed out again, head against the window. 

… 

When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was that his head was killing him. 

The second thing he noticed was that he was in a cell, with cameras at every corner of the ceiling all trained on him. 

The third thing was that he wasn't alone. 

"Kid!" he gasped, crawling towards the figure on the ground who was unmistakably Peter Parker. He frantically grasped Peter's shoulders and shook him. "Kid, wake up." 

"Mr. Stark?" Peter slurred drowsily, "I don't feel so good." 

Tony exhaled in relief, the kid was alive and that was something. Probably concussed, though. "Open your eyes," he instructed, and Peter wearily obeyed. 

The lighting was dim in the cell, but Tony could see that both of Peter's pupils were even. Huh. He was probably drugged, then, but his metabolism should have been fast enough to shake off the effects of most drugs pretty quickly - unless the drugs were designed specifically for him. 

"Kid, I need you to stay awake for me," he told him. "Tell me what happened."

The kid's brow furrowed in confusion. "I think I was patrolling," he said, hesitantly, still slurring slightly. "I don't remember… I stopped a bike theft and helped an old lady across the road and she gave me a churro, but I don't…" 

Tony sighed, resisting the urge to face-palm. "You ate the churro, didn't you?" 

"Well, yeah, I guess I was pretty hungry. You don't think…" 

"Pete, you can't accept stuff like that. The city isn't a safe place, there are villains out to get you. Kid, what if someone gave you a gift that was really a bomb? What if the churro had been poisoned lethally, not just drugged? If you're gonna be an Avenger, you gotta know that people are out to get you out there and you gotta learn how to say no."

"I… guess so." 

"Now help me figure out how to get out of here." Tony offered him a hand, and Peter pulled himself up to a sitting position.

"I could try to break the bars," Peter weakly offered. 

"Oh, I suggest you give that a try," another voice came smoothly as a man stepped into Tony's line of vision outside the cage. Tony quickly stepped in front of Peter, shielding him, but the man simply smiled. 

"I've heard great things about you, Mr. Stark," the man said, sounding infuriatingly polite. "My sources tell me you are working on a new algorithm for the nuclear codes, am I correct?" Straight to the point. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," Tony lied. 

"Oh, I think you do. But if you are unwilling, I suppose we could use a little more… persuasion." 

"Mr. Stark," Tony heard Peter whisper in terror, but Tony quickly shushed him. 

"So, Mr. Stark, are you willing to speak or do we have to make you?"

Tony gritted his teeth. "I don't know who your source is, but they're wrong," he repeated. 

"Have it your way then," the man smirked, and he heard the lock of the cell click. The door creaked open and several men filed in, grabbing him by his arms and throat and dragging him away from Peter even as he struggled to protect him. He saw them do the same to Peter as well, but a hard knock to the back of his head made Tony black out and miss the next several minutes. 

When he came to, he was still held in position, his feet several inches above the floor and facing Peter, who was held the same way. He saw a bruise blossoming on Peters jaw and felt a rush of guilt, but what was between them distracted him and replaced it with pure terror. 

"Are you willing to speak, Mr. Stark?" the man asked again, and Tony jerked his head to indicate no, even as he stared into the basin of water between Peter and himself. 

"Go ahead, boys," he heard, and without warning he was dunked underwater and transported back to Afghanistan. 

He convulsed, struggling against his captors even as they gripped tighter, holding him under. The water splashed, it was going to wet the car battery, it was going to electrocute him and he would die, and they water was filling his lungs, and his throat burned. He saw darkness and the stars and the nuke he flew into a wormhole, then felt something yank him back to earth with a rough pull of his hair. 

"I enjoyed that," he heard distantly as he coughed and spluttered, trying to breathe. "Are you willing to do what we ask now, Mr. Stark?" 

"No weapons," he tried to gasp out, but it came out more of a strangled groan, and he desperately tried to resist the hands as they shoved him into hell once again. And again. And again. And again. He lost count, and the last thing he saw was the horrified look in Peter's eyes as he blacked out. 

… 

"Mr. Stark," he heard a frantic voice whisper, far away. "Mr. Stark, you have to wake up, you have to be okay, I don't know what to do Mr. Stark, please please just wake up-" 

"Kid," he tried to say, but his voice was a broken whisper. He opened his eyes, and everything was blurry for a second. After a moment, though, he could make out Peter kneeling beside him crying, and realised he was lying down in the cell again. "What happened?" 

"They hurt.. . They hurt you, Mr. Stark, I tried to get to you but they were too strong and I'm so sorry, I really really tried." Peter was sobbing now, clearly drowning in the guilt, and Tony pressed his finger to Peter's lips. 

"You're okay, kid," he said. "You're okay, we're okay. Not… Not your fault." 

Tony wanted to say more, wanted to tell Peter that he was sorry he had to be dragged into this, that Peter needed to get out of here and that they needed to find a way out, but the terror left only one thing on his mind and he needed to ask before he passed out again. 

"Are they coming back?" he managed to choke out. Peter nodded miserably.

"Not right now though. They said they're giving you two hours to recover before they try something else." 

Tony closed his eyes. He wanted to pretend that nothing could hurt him as much as the water could, but he knew that without any training on how to deal with torture, he was likely to crack and have lasting trauma no matter what they did to him. 

" Don't worry about me, kid," he whispered, trying to comfort the crying boy, combing his fingers through Peter's hair. "We're gonna get out, I promise." 

He just hoped that it was a promise he'd be able to keep.


	2. Chapter 2

Even though every cell in Tony's body screamed in exhaustion, he forced himself to stay awake. Sleeping would allow his body physical recovery, maybe, but the two hours he got between torture sessions was what would allow him to recover mentally. He refused to spend every waking second in pain. So, he turned to Peter and started a conversation in the hopes it would keep him awake and reassure Peter they would be okay. 

"How's school going?" he'd asked, not expecting Peter's face to completely light up the way it did. Turns out the kid really did need a distraction. 

"School's great. I still get A's in everything which is awesome, and I can use Chemistry periods to create my Web and improve the formulas. Everything else is still pretty ordinary and MJ is great at being decathlon captain…" 

Tony laughed - actually laughed, even though it seemed to strip his throat raw. "How's things with you friend Ted?" he rasped. 

"Ned's helping out with the whole Spiderman thing, he tells me if he notices something on the live feed that I didn't-" 

"Live feed?" 

"Uh. Don't be mad, Mr. Stark," Peter bit his lip hesitantly, "wekindahackedintothesuit."

"You hacked into a multi billion dollar suit," Tony repeated, mildly amused. "Only you, kid. Only you." 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark, we didn't mean to-" 

"No, nope, none of that, tell me more about this."

Peter soon caught on to the fact that Tony wasn't mad, only impressed, and talked about how exactly they had hacked into Tony's ultra-secure AI, punctuating each word with a wild gesture of his hands. Tony slumped against the wall again, choosing to listen quietly - he didn't have the energy to speak, and he appreciated that he didn't have to.

Of course, that wouldn't last long. Peter had finished talking about hacking and had started talking about Decathlon when the men barged in again, the man who had tortured him before stepping smoothly into the room last. Peter had stiffened immediately, and Tony pulled him close. 

"Well, Mr. Stark," he said, "I take it you remember our little conversation earlier? We could do that again, or you could tell us the codes." 

"I'll tell you nothing," Tony replied wearily. The man smiled. 

"Ah, this is progress. Earlier you insisted you didn't know what we were discussing." Tony froze for a second, realising his slip, but then they'd already known the truth before anyway. 

"It's a shame, it is, because I had been informed that you'd crack the easiest if you were waterboarded. I hadn't thought to ready anything else - but we shall improvise today." The man pulled out a lighter out of one pocket, and a knife out of the other. "This shall be enjoyable." 

Tony gripped Peter's arm tightly, wanting desperately to close his eyes and pretend this wasn't happening, but was terrified they'd hurt Peter if he did. He shifted to shield Peter the best he could as the man brought the flame of the lighter close to the blade of the knife and heated it. Clearly the lighter was more powerful than it seemed, because the knife turned red hot in minutes. 

"We don't need to do this," the man said, his voice deceptively compassionate. "You could tell us what we need to know, and you can leave unharmed. Nobody needs to get hurt here." 

"How about all the people you're going to kill with the nukes?" Tony rasped.

"Ah, Mr. Stark, surely you don't believe we would bomb people. No, it is the World Security Council that plans to do so. You could save all those people, we could take the nukes out of their hands with the codes and you would be keeping millions of lives safe."

"The WSC isn't holding a knife to kill me with." The man's eyes hardened. 

"Oh, Mr. Stark, you'll wish you were dead once we are done," he smiled coldly, and plunged the knife into Tony's thigh. 

Tony didn't register it at first, but the pain crept up, intensified. He bit his lip to stifle a scream as he felt the burning sensation, felt his blood boil, literally, saw the blood staining his trousers and already knew that his flesh was going to look like a black, charred mess when he checked later. His leg throbbed, the pain intensifying over and over again, the smell of burning flesh and melted fat invading his nostrils. His vision went white for a second, he was screaming and begging for mercy, he turned his head to a side and threw up, and the knife was still burning through his flesh. 

He saw, distantly, the man and his henchmen stalk out of the room, saw Peter's worried, tear streaked face come into view, but all he could feel was the burning in his leg as he passed out for the second time that day. 

… 

He woke up, not long after, and Peter was kneeling by his side again. The pain was still throbbing, but it didn't hurt worse than the time he'd had the arc reactor implanted into his chest without any anaesthesia in a cave. He could handle this. 

"Hey kid," he said, and Peter's head snapped up.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark," Peter immediately apologised. Of course he did. "I didn't know what to do, I didn't know if I should take the knife out or not, but I figured that the heat would have cauterised the wound and you wouldn't bleed out, and you didn't but it probably hurts so much and I'm so-" 

"Kid. Not your fault. You did good." 

"It should have been me, Mr. Stark, I heal faster than you and I can take a lot of pain -" 

"No. Kid, no. Should never be you." The pain was still too intense for Tony to properly collect his thoughts, but be needed to finish this. "Arc reactor - in cave. No painkillers. M'okay. Never you." 

Peter still seemed unconvinced, but nodded. "Mr. Stark… I  
I thought they brought me here to get to you, but the haven't done anything to me yet. And when they said something different, I thought… I thought it'd be me. Mr. Stark, why do you think they brought me here?" 

"I dunno, kid," Tony said, and that was the truth. He hoped that they wouldn't decide to hurt Peter, he could survive a little pain but Peter was so young, he didn't deserve that. Peter being there only helped him, Peter helped patch him up and helped him recover. If they were going to try and break Tony, why would they put him and Peter together? Something didn't add up, and Tony knew they had to get out before they hurt Peter. 

In the meantime, though, Peter had been awake and conscious throughout Tony's torture, and was probably as mentally exhausted as he was. 

"Go to sleep, kid," he said, "I'll keep the nightmares away." 

Peter just nodded, and curled up beside Tony. There was silence in the room, interrupted only by their breathing, and Tony heard Peter's breaths even out after a few minutes. Only then did he allow his own eyelids to droop, finally falling into a fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tired to update as soon as I could but I might not be able to update for a while. I'm doing my O Levels this year and they're in less than a month - but I'll still update when I can.
> 
> Also, if anybody could help me out with writing a better summary for my work, I'd really really appreciate it!


	3. Chapter 3

Tony regretted many things in his life, but he didn't regret removing the arc reactor.

Implanting the reactor had damaged his body irreparably. The surgery Yinsen had carried out in the cave was rough - to place the car battery wires correctly and to remove the shrapnel, a large section of his sternum had had to be removed and he had lost about 10% of his lung capacity. The reactor was bulkier than the wires, and the follow up surgery to implant the reactor casing was worse. His sternum had been cut up a bit more, his lung capacity reduced to only 70%, and his heart had had to be physically picked up and moved aside to make way for the reactor.

The palladium poisoning had damaged his body as well, and even years later he still had to drink chlorophyll every once in a while, took lithium dioxide injections every month. The palladium had damaged several blood vessels, had circulated through his entire body, and the effect was lasting.

After the Mandarin incident, Tony decided to have surgery once again, this time to remove the shrapnel in his heart for good. His lungs could expand better now, which made panic attacks easier to recover from and overcome, and he'd created a new material as a prosthetic sternum to replace the gaping hole in his chest. His heart was still damaged, though, would never be the same. He'd had a heart attack two months after the removal surgery, had an irregular heartbeat even on the best of days, and had he not been reasonably fit his heart would have given up a long time ago.

Not everyone agreed with his decision. The public had been upset, the headlines showed it. The arc reactor was what symbolised Iron Man, and by removing it many of Iron Man's fans were devastated. Ultimately, it wasn't their decision. It was Tony's body, and Tony's decision to remove the reactor, and he could finally breathe easily and not feel the metal freeze against his skin on the cold days. He could lie on his stomach without the metal digging into his flesh and go to sleep without the terror someone might rip his heart out again.

Tony didn't regret removing the reactor, because it didn't symbolise his escape from Afghanistan to him. No, it served as a reminder of the torture he underwent in Afghanistan. It reminded him of the pain as he felt his chest being sawed open, and it reminded him of Obie standing over him, ripping it out out of his chest.

The nightmares never did stop, though. He still experienced phantom pain - losing a large section of your body could do that. He could still feel the rusted saw carving into his sternum, he could still feel the excruciating pain of the shrapnel tearing through his heart even as Yinsen collected and removed them as quickly as he could. And this pain sometimes decided to turn up while he was asleep, which would throw him into a flashback through his nightmares. Pepper had told him that he cried in his sleep, yelled and covered the arc.

Maybe it was because he was kidnapped yet again, in a situation very similar to Afghanistan. Maybe it was the recent waterboarding that transported his mind back to the cave. Maybe it was the stress he went through, or the burning pain in his thigh. Either way, he dreamt of the arc reactor that night.

The pain was so vivid, the betrayal as Obie ripped it out, the agony as Yinsen shoved it in. The shrapnel and the electrocution and the throbbing of blacked veins poisoned with Palladium. Tony heard screaming, willed it to stop, then realised it was him screaming. He sat up, waking up with a start, and nearly headbutted Peter who was hunched over him in concern.

"Mr. Stark!" he heard, but he didn't really. All he could hear was the irregular thudding of his heart in his ears, the rush of blood and the tearing sensation in his chest. He pressed his palm over the scars, realised his shirt was wet with sweat and clinging to him like a second skin.

Breathing was hard. He tried to inhale, he tried to breathe, but something within him seemed to push the air out, press against his lungs. Every breath came out harsher, shorter than the last. He turned to Peter with pleading eyes, he knew vaguely that Peter was terrified, didn't understand what was happening, and he willed Peter to calm down so Tony could.

He really didn't want to go through this, not there, where everything about the situation reminded him of Afghanistan. The anxiety bubbled in his chest, and Tony just wanted this to be over, for him to be able to go home.

Distantly, he realised Peter had started counting. He heard him count to four slowly, count down, and count again. He tried to match his breathing to the counts, but he was sobbing and gasping and his breath kept coming out short. Peter had his hand on Tony's back, and Tony used it to ground himself to reality and breathe in and out and in and out. 

"Thanks kid," he finally managed, after his breathing had evened out. The anxiety hadn't disappeared, it never truly did, but the chances of him having another panic attack were low enough for Tony to relax a little. 

"Mr. Stark, what was that?" Peter sounded concerned and slightly terrified, and Tony closed his eyes in shame. 

"I… After Afghanistan, and the Mandarin, and New York and even a little before… I'm fine, it's not interfering with my life too much but I kind of have…" Tony huffed a little in frustration, "I kind of have an anxiety issue, kid." There. It was out. 

Tony didn't know what he expected, but it wasn't the hug Peter leapt to envelop him in. 

"Not that I don't appreciate it, but what's this about?" Tony asked, his voice muffled since his face was pressed into Peter's shoulder. Peter pulled away and looked at him directly in the eyes. 

"You deserve so much better, Mr. Stark," Peter said, and he looked so  _ earnest  _ that it reminded him of Steve when he talked about the war. "You've been through so much and you're here and you're still fighting with the good guys and still putting up with so much effort to protect other people, and you're so  _ good."  _

Tony almost laughed, would have if he wasn't in so much pain. There were so many things that made him a bad person. He'd killed millions with his weapons, but Peter wouldn't understand that, would still defend Tony. He was kidnapped, and Peter was already terrified, Peter had been conscious throughout the whole ordeal and had watched his mentor be tortured, desperately tried to save his life and spent hours worrying over Tony once he blacked out, and Tony was still making this all about himself. Tony had woken Peter up with his panic attack, was still demanding Peter's attention even though Tony was supposed to be there for  _ him. _

Even if the weapons didn't make Tony a bad person, making Peter watch him suffer and making him care for him afterwards when he was clearly stressed and upset would make him a terrible one. 

"Thanks, kid," was what he finally said. "I'm sorry I woke you up, you should get some rest before they come back."

It was proof of how exhausted Peter was that he didn't argue, simply nodded and obeyed. Peter was asleep in seconds, and Tony waited for the anxiety to fade away a little before returning to sleep again. 

… 

He was woken the next day by the sound of the cell door being unlocked. As soon as he saw his captor and his henchmen entering, he jerked awake and pulled Peter behind him, the wound in his thigh throbbing from the sudden movement. 

"No need to shield him away, Mr. Stark," he heard the man say, and a chill ran down his spine. "Today we have plans for both of you." 

"Leave him alone," Tony pleaded. He'd never begged for anything in his life, but he was willing to beg for Peter's safety if that's what it took. Peter had woken up now, he felt Peter sit up behind him. 

"I was watching the security cameras last night," the man continued, ignoring Tony. "I saw something most interesting. Your chest, the light that used to be there, that is your weakness, yes?" 

"I don't have it anymore," Tony replied shortly, cursing himself for forgetting that they could see his every move inside the cell. "Got rid of it years ago." 

"Ah, then you shouldn't mind me doing  _ this,"  _ the man said, stepping forward and lightly running a long fingernail over Tony's chest, through his shirt. Tony couldn't help it, he flinched back violently. Even Pepper wasn't allowed to touch his chest - the trauma was still vivid in his mind, and the surgery had made the area even more sensitive than it was before. 

"That's what I thought. I wonder what it will take to break you, Stark. I could insert shrapnel into your veins and watch is crawl towards you heart, rip it to shreds. I could slice your chest open, bit by bit, make the child watch." He dug his fingernail into Tony's chest, making him gasp in pain. "Or," he smiled. "You could simply tell us what we need to know, and you can be on your way out." 

Tony didn't even pause to think. The offer was too tempting, he wanted a way out and would do anything to get out, but he knew he couldn't put millions of other lives at risk for his own, knew that if he even thought about the offer he couldn't resist it, knew the answer he was supposed to deliver regardless of what offer they made. "No," he said, and refused to regret it. 

"We are in no rush," the man sounded amused. "You have time to think over it - meanwhile, boys, get the child." 

Tony was stunned for a second, then immediately moved to push Peter even further behind himself, desperate to shield him. "No, no, please, take me instead," he gasped as the men tackled him, dug their fingers into his wound, grabbed his hair and pulled. "Please, please, anything - do anything to me, please, please not him-" 

The man stared at him coldly as he reached out for Peter, sobbing as they dragged him away. Peter was crying, struggling and trying to reach Tony, and Tony wanted desperately to bridge the gap between their hands but he couldn't  _ move _ , couldn't stand up. But Peter needed him. 

"I wouldn't worry too much," the man told him, as they dragged Peter out of the room kicking and screaming. "Torture would not help us achieve our aims with him. However, once we get what we want, we will not hesitate to kill him or make him wish for death if that is what it takes for those codes." Tony simply stared up at him, tears streaming down his face, body convulsing with sobs. "I would think about that carefully if I were you." 

And then Tony was alone. If Peter had so much as a scratch on him, Tony would never forgive himself. Finally allowing himself to reconsider giving the men the codes, Tony dried his eyes and tried to construct different ways to help Peter escape. 

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

The cell seemed even emptier than usual without Peter there. Tony hadn't realised how much he had been relying on Peter to fill the silence until the silence became all-encompassing without him. 

It was hard to figure out how long he'd been waiting. He didn't have a watch, he'd been wearing one when he'd been kidnapped but his kidnappers had probably taken it. Pity, it was a gorgeous watch, a gift from Pepper. Peter had told him that the waterboarding and the knife incident occurred on the same day, and Tony had woken up in a panic that morning, so he'd been kidnapped little over 24 hours and he was already feeling ready to break. 

Peter didn't deserve any of this, though. Tony couldn't figure out what they wanted with Peter. Up until now, they hadn't touched him, had tortured Tony instead and that had been bearable. The had Peter now, though, and Tony didn't know what he would do if Peter got hurt because of a project he should never have taken part in anyway. 

A few minutes or an eternity later, he heard the thudding of footsteps approaching the cage and looked up. What he saw chilled him, his blood froze. 

"What are you doing," he said, his voice sounding breakable even to his own ears. 

"It appears you would not be persuaded by our requests," the man said, and Tony was starting to hate his voice now. "We tried playing nicely but you refused to cooperate, Mr. Stark, so let it be known this is your fault." 

Tony shook his head in disbelief, in horror, and he saw his terror mirrored in Peter's eyes. Peter, who was tied up in more ropes than necessary, held in a bruising grip by not one, not two, but five men. 

Peter, with a bomb strapped to his chest. 

"No, please," Tony begged, his voice catching on the last word. "Anything. I'll do.. I'll do anything. Please." 

The man wordlessly handed him a tablet. "Start typing, and maybe we'll spare him." 

Tony wanted to throw the tablet away, smash it up, but the bomb on Peter's chest stopped him. It was a tiny thing, a miniature shrapnel bomb, intended for close quarters combat - you could send shrapnel through your enemy's bloodstream with a click, holding it against their skin, while suffering almost no harm yourself. Tony was intimately familiar with the design, the model. In white lettering on the small black device, it was easy to read the words "STARK INDUSTRIES" painted on it. 

Tony had suffered immensely in Afghanistan, from the shrapnel. He had flashbacks of the moment he saw the bomb, realising it would be his own work that would kill him. He looked at Peter now, and knew that even if Peter survived, he would still be tortured by the memories of his mentor callously choosing lines of code over his life. Tony didn't want that, it for Peter. 

So he typed. 

The first few lines were the correct code, he was too dazed to think about messing with it, but he came to the realisation he could give them the wrong code and then typed faster. The code he was typing now would still give the kidnappers the appearance that they had gotten in, and hacked into the site, but what it really would do was alert whoever reviewed the security that there was an attempted breakthrough. The code that guarded the nukes was a complex algorithm, almost an AI, and Tony knew that the algorithm could process reasonably complex commands, not just protect weapons. 

So, he added a few more lines of code, now to alert the near-AI he had programed to carry out a new command - to access the location of the hackers through whichever device they used for hacking, and to broadcast the locations send it to the Avengers. Bruce knew that Tony had been working in the nuclear codes, and would have noticed that he had been missing by now. If they got a location, out of the blue, immediately after his kidnapping from a project he had been working on, they'd put two and two together and find him. 

In hindsight, he should have done this sooner. They could have found them before Peter got hurt - but Tony could fix this now. If the men entered the code, Tony would have a chance. The Avengers would save him and Peter, they had to. 

Tony was a fast typer and his hands blurred as he typed out the code, but it took him nearly half an hour to type it out. He glanced up at Peter every once in a while, noticing how the fear slowly faded out of his eyes as he realised his mentor had a plan, but seeing the bruises Peter sported on his jaw and around his throat just made him work twice as fast every time. Finally he was done, and he handed the tablet back. 

"I gave you what you wanted," he said, slightly hopeful even though he knew they wouldn't set him free. "Let the kid go."

"You've caused us a lot of trouble, Mr. Stark," the man smiled. "I don't think I'll let him go, not just yet." 

Tony felt his world crashing around him. "You promised," He whispered pathetically, knowing it would mean nothing to the man but desperate to try anyway. 

"Oh well then," the man said, "fine, you can have him. If I promised, I suppose you can have him back." 

"Thank you," Tony said, pathetically grateful but still wary. The man stepped out of the cage, and the five men dropped Peter down where they stood before moving out to follow their leader as well. Peter was still tied up but tried to wriggle towards Tony as the cell door locked, and Tony could do nothing but open his arms to receive him - is leg was too injured for him to move. 

Peter didn't quite make it to Tony's arms. He was three feet away when a loud bang was heard, and Tony's heart stopped in terror. 

… 

There was so much blood. He heard the metallic chink of pieces of shrapnel falling to the ground. Peter's eyes widened, locking with Tony's in horror for what seemed like a fleeting moment and an eternity at once before they rolled back in his head. 

The bomb had detonated. It had detonated by Peter's chest. The blood, soaking through Peter's shirt, that was Peter's blood.

"No," Tony gasped out, falling forward towards Peter but still not quite reaching him. "No, kid, no, no, please, kid you're, you're alright, kid, please, please, no. No!" 

Tony couldn't reach him. His kid was dying and he couldn't hold him while he died, his kid was dying and it was all because of him. He could have prevented this, he could have done more, should have done more, but he hadn't and Peter was dying and Tony couldn't hold him. He tried to reach, was lying almost flat on the floor now, trying to wriggle forward but the pain erupted in his leg and almost made him pass out. Gritting his teeth, he tried again, ignoring the pain from the almost certainly infected stab wound and focusing on moving towards Peter. 

Finally, sweating and breathing hard from the exertion and the panic, he managed to catch Peter's hand in his own. Peter was dying, and he couldn't hold him as he died, but he could hold his hand. God. The blood had soaked through Peter's shirt now, was pooling on the floor around him. All Tony could see through the tears was red. 

… 

Tony hadn't cried like this, not ever. Deep shuddering sobs that tore through his entire body to escape, cries punctuated with harsh, broken breaths and pained moans. His crying echoed through the silent cell, the cell that would never be filled with Peter's chatter again. He thought about his lab, back in the tower. Peter was supposed to show him how he made the web shooters and they were supposed to work on the Spiderman suit together.

Except there'd be no more Spiderman. No more Peter Parker. God, May was going to kill him. Tony laughed, a hysterical laugh devoid of humour. Tony would gladly let May kill him, he deserved nothing less. 

The kid was dying, in the most painful way he could possibly die. Shrapnel through the heart was no joke. 

Peter's hand was still warm, and bruised, and bloody. Out of Tony's line of vision, his other hand twitched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY!!! But Peter isnt dead. He's going to get through this, I promise.
> 
> Thank you so much to StressedSpider, who suggested that Peter get an arc reactor, which inspired this chapter. I didn't give him an arc reactor just yet because there would be no reason for the kidnappers to insert it, but I felt shrapnel would be more realistic and would mean Peter could still get an arc reactor later.
> 
> My exams are starting soon, by the way. I should really stop writing and focus on my studies, but finishing this fic is important to me. Just don't worry if I suddenly stop updating for a while - I probably won't, since I'm addicted to writing, but even if I do stop updates I'll pick this fic back up as soon as my exams finish.


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